Twisted World
by Greed and Pride
Summary: "It's a dark twisted world out there in which only the brave ones survive. That's her motto, the one thing that makes sense in her life. Because she's Hermione, the daughter of one of the most brilliant wizards that ever lived." AU
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue **

_Somewhere in London – 25__th__ August, 1997_

_Dear journal,  
talking to you is the only normal thing in my life right now. And I'm not entirely sure if this can be considered normal. I'm a witch and talking to a piece of paper doesn't seem logical to me. However, I need someone to talk to and you're the only one who will keep my secrets and 'listen' without judging.  
My mom is one of the darkest witches that ever lived. Her name is Bellatrix Lestrange and I share her last name. It's a very uncommon thing in our world, for the child to have the mom's last name. But she never wanted anyone to know who my father was and giving me his last name would be too obvious. The problem is that he doesn't know either.  
I don't know many details, nor do I wish too. I know all I need to know. My mother got pregnant and never told my father. She had me and, three months later, she was taken to Azkaban where she will probably spend the rest of her life. A fate worse than death, as people say…  
Her sister, Narcissa, wanted to raise me but my Godfather stepped in and took me in. Severus Snape is a man of many mysteries and there is a lot I don't know about him, even though I've lived with him all my life. For starters, I never really understood which side he's on. I know it's stupid to talk about sides now that the Dark Lord is gone but sides are still there. I like to think that he's on the dark side because, really, that's the winner's side. But I never really understood much about him. All I know is that he tries his best to control my craziness, my wild side. He should have learned by know that you can't fight something as powerful but I'm not going to be the one to tell him.  
And then there's my father…it's hard to talk about him because I never really met him. He was gone even before I was born. He wouldn't have been around, even if he was alive, anyway. I don't know what to say about him, really.  
This is, pretty much, all I can say for now. As I write, Severus is waiting for me downstairs. We're supposed to go shopping. He claimed he needs some new ingredients for potions and wants me to tag along. That's fine by me. I'll get to buy some new books.  
This is me. I'm Hermione Lestrange, the daughter of one of the most brilliant and powerful wizards that ever walked on Earth. _

**AN: So, as you can see, I'm new here and this is my first story. I'm writing it with xana4 and it's meant to be completely AU. We'll change the story of many characters. Let us know what you think about this and we'll have the next chapter ready to post in a few days, if you want us to continue.  
Greed and Pride**


	2. Chapter 2

Harry Potter wakes up, as in many other mornings, startled with Petunia's knock on his door. He knows it's time to get up and do what he does every single morning: breakfast. He's not sure of when this started but, for some reason, he's more like a servant than a nephew to Petunia and Vernon. Petunia seems to hate him with every bone in her body and he doesn't really understand why. He's never done anything to deserve such disdain. And that's not even the worst part. Harry gets up and puts on a shirt and pants before going to the kitchen. The small bedroom under the stairs is too small to even be considered such a thing but he's so used to it, by know, that it's strangely comfortable. At least it's his space.

Harry walks in the kitchen and sees the same scene he sees every morning. Petunia is combing Dudley's hair, as if the beast can't do it alone. Dudley is overweight and there's no point in denying such a thing. But that would be fine because Harry has nothing against overweight people. But Dudley is a pain in the ass. There's probably no better way to describe the creature. He's spoiled, annoying and a big baby. Vernon is reading the paper, not caring about anything else. It's the usual scenario. And then there's his twin brother. Draco is sitting on a chair, patiently waiting for the breakfast to be served. Draco's the only reason why he doesn't believe that Petunia's hate towards him is related to her relationship with their mother. Because, if that were the case, Draco would be treated just like Harry. However, Draco is like a second son to Petunia and Harry is the outsider, the black sheep.

He starts serving breakfast without saying a word. It's pointless because everyone is so used to ignore him that is kind of a surprise when anyone talks to him without being to give him an order.

After they're done with breakfast and the kitchen is cleaned, Harry goes to the backyard, the only place where he can find some peace and quiet during the day. But that's not always enough and Draco sits by his side after a few minutes, clearly not noticing that he wants to be alone.

"How are you?"

Harry wants to give him a weird look, wants to tell him something along the lines of 'since when do you care' but there's a small voice inside of him that doesn't allow him to do so. The little voice keeps reminding him that Draco is his brother and that this is not his fault. It's Petunia's fault. Or maybe it's Harry's fault for not being as likeable. Whatever. There are days in which he feels darker and blames his parents. Because, after all is said and done, he wouldn't be here if they hadn't died in a stupid car crash. Harry can't blame them for that, of course, but they could have left their kids with someone warmer than aunt Petunia. That's why Harry turns to his twin brother and shrugs.

"I'm fine. What about you? How are you?"

Draco's hair, although as dark as Harry's, seems to glow underneath the sunlight. Always well treated Draco has the ability to draw everything we want from their uncles, even we wins over they son Dudley. Harry knows Draco personality, he is twisted and evil and the same time brilliant and extensional at everything he does, like a evil genius.

"Agrr, I'm sick and tired of that bitch. Of course I'm talking about our aunt petunia…she is awful and full of shit. Look at her!" he looks behind him and they see petunia with a caring smile on her face. "She is doing that again…always listening to everyone's conversations. She's good for nothing! And uncle Vernon…the guy looks like a sea-lion! I've never met biggest losers in my life. Well, it's always good to talk to you… brother."

That evil smile and twisted look…Harry knows what it means. It means he's going to find a way to blame Harry for everything. Because no one believes Harry's word, as usual.

"POTTER!" - Screams uncle Vernon - "Go grab me the letters from the mail. Now! ARE YOU DEAF?"

"Here we go again…" keeping those thoughts to himself, Harry stands up and goes to the front door to grab the mail. As usual, there a few bills, a letter from aunt Marge and three strange letters, crafted with a paper he never saw before. The handwriting is perfect, flawless, and beautiful. 'Who wrote this letters?' That question occupies Harry's mind while he makes his way back to the kitchen. And, again, Vernon yells at the boy.

"What in the seven Hells are you doing? Give me those letters now! Don't even think about reading them… oh wait… can you even read? Hahahahah!" everyone laughs because of that stupid joke. But it is a normal day on the Dursley household. They're just playing their favorite game… making fun of Harry.

Harry gives the letters to uncle Vernon who quickly sends them off to the drawer on the kitchen counter. Suddenly, Harry feels a huge pain on the back of his head. It's Dudley, as usual, that hit him with a baseball bat. Whenever he's bored, Dudley likes to play this game.

Dudley starts running after Harry, yelling "Ready or not, here I come, little porker."

He keeps running after Harry to beat him down but Harry runs faster, somehow, and manages to escape to his room under the stairs. "Oh, come one porky…Why are you such a sissy? Porky sissy, porky sissy, porky sissy…" The childish behavior continues for hours but Harry has a good tool against that. He managed to, somehow, get his hands on an mp3 with good music in it. He takes the device from its secret spot, beneath the mattress, the place where he hides everything that means something to him. Unfortunately, he doesn't have many possessions. He only has a pair of toy soldiers, a horse made of wood that Draco did on a workshop, his mp3 that magically appeared by his pillow one day (even though he never asked for it) and a golden golf ball he found on one of his secret walks to Little Whinging (he still wonders who might possibly have such a beautiful object laying around).

Harry dives in his thoughts, closes the door from the inside, just in case someone tries to walk in and ruin the small moment of peace he has, puts the earphones on and starts listening to System of a Down. In a few minutes, he falls back asleep.

**Meanwhile across the country was a boy…**

And, once again, it was him…with ginger hair, tall and skinny, Ronald Weasley spends another hour looking for something to do with his insignificant life. His brothers spend hours playing Quidditch on the backyard and his mother spends all her time watching a muggle TV, gift from his father who works on the department of bad uses for devices and utensils of Muggles. Mrs. Weasley is watching a program that the Muggles call master-chef. It's basically a show where people compete to see who the best cook is.

Ron, on the other hand, spends his time wondering how different his life would be if he were more like his older brothers. Or, better yet, how his life would be without his older brothers. They always look down on him. Ron, to them, is a useless person who gives up very easily and is not capable of taking part in the simplest family activities.

The older brothers make fun of him every time they can and that's the most awesome hobby ever to them.

This time, Ron is sitting on the balcony, watching the view. There are green fields and a mud road magically built by his father for the flying car the family possesses. "I wonder if there's someone like me out there. The pureblood families are nothing like mine…"

That thought has been haunting Ron for years now. He is an eleven year old boy with no friends, brothers and parents who don't give him the proper amount of attention. It's like he doesn't even exist, most of the times.

And, all of a sudden, he sees an owl making its way to the house. He doesn't need to run to find out what kind of letter that specific owl brings. After all, it is the end of August…

**At the same time near London…**

A boy starts to run as fast as he can and, as usual, falls right to his face on the ground, the taste of blood, well known to the boy, making its usual presence. Because he's just like this…a huge simple disaster.

"NEVILLE! DID YOU FALL AGAIN?" screams his stepfather from the living room, seeing as it's such a routine on Neville's life. And the reason why the short and fat boy always runs like a madmen is simple. He's terrified to be caught by someone with magic blood. He is a pureblood wizard but hides that fact from everyone. Magic terrifies him to death. To him, magic is like a big scary monster, spinning out of control. That, allied to his lack of coordination, makes him a bombastic combination to every single one of his Muggle 'friends'. He's always the target, the one everyone laughs at.

"No, dad, I was just fixing the mailbox." He tries to lie but it's a difficult task. He finished with his usual nervous laugh, the one nervous habit that always gives him away when he lies. He gives excuses for everything and they're always brilliant, although stupid…the most stupid excuses anyone can come up with, really.

"That's weird, Neville, seeing as the mailbox is right here next to me. Go to your grandmother. You're probably bleeding, as usual."

And, one more time, Neville walks calmly to the kitchen. It's almost lunch time and, on his way there, his shoelace unties itself and Neville ends up falling once again.

This time his stepfather walks in, laughing hard, seeing as he watched the whole scene. The reaction is the same as usual. He always smiles to avoid questions but, inside, it breaks him. He only has friends because they like to see him falling all the time. He attracts trouble like a magnet. He's the clown on their group of friends. Well, every group needs one.

"Oh, my poor grandson… are you okay?" Asks his grandmother, when she hears him fall. "Ohm!" Says the old lady, with a big smile.

His worst fears come true while he sits on the floor, his mouth full of blood and his butt hurting like hell. He looks ahead of him and sees his worst nightmare coming to life.

"The moment has finally arrived…"

The devil letter is there.

**This is what happen on a witch's house.**

Hermione wakes up with a loud noise downstairs, a noise that sounded an awful lot like an explosion. She sighs, not really surprised by it. Living with someone who likes to come up with new potions has that downside. Sometimes, things explode. She'll never forget the day she found Severus Snape without eyebrows.

She gets out of the bed, opens the curtains and makes her way to the bathroom to get ready for the new day. She has plans to spend the entire day studying, seeing as she wants to be ahead of the other students in all her classes. Severus, her godfather and the man who raised her, always says: "If you're not trying to be number one, what's the point in doing anything?"

She's sure her mother would agree, as would her father. Her mother fought for a better world and is now getting punished because of it. Hermione can't see how that's any fair. Her mother was simply standing up to a world where muggle-borns wouldn't be allowed to do magic. Hermione considers that to be a good fight.

And her father…her father is one of the greatest wizards that ever lived. He would want her to be the best at every single thing. There's the small detail that he doesn't even know she's his daughter but that's irrelevant. Her mother must have thought it would be better if he didn't know. And Bellatrix Lestrange can't be accused of being someone who does something without thinking.

Hermione finishes getting ready and walks downstairs. Severus is already waiting for her, the breakfast ready. The house-elf, Rumple, always puts too much food on the table because he wants his masters to be well taken-care of.

"Did you sleep well, my dear?"

Hermione offers Severus a small smile. "I woke up with an explosion downstairs. Do you happen to know anything about that?"

Severus shakes his head and fakes innocence. "It must have been Rumple. You know him and his adventures in the kitchen…"

Rumple chooses that precise moment to walk in and Hermione turns to him with a grin. "Rumple, did you hear the explosion this morning?"

Rumple nods right away, ignoring Snape's look. "Yes, I did, Miss Hermione."

She continues. "Do you know what happened?"

Rumple nods, once again. "Master Severus was trying a new potion but it didn't go well. Rumple had to clean the green thing from the walls and restore Master's fingernails before Miss Hermione came downstairs. But everything's okay now, Miss Hermione."

"Thank you so much, Rumple. You may go, now."

Rumple leaves the room with a bow and Hermione turns to Severus, her grin even bigger than before. He lifts one hand and signals her not to say anything.

"Don't say a word!"

She shakes her head, barely containing her laughter. "I wasn't going to. So, what are the plans for today?"

Snape takes a sip of his pumpkin juice before answering her. "I need a few ingredients and you need new robes. I was thinking we could go shopping. You could even pick out a few books, if that would please you."

Hermione nods eagerly. The prospect of reading new books is enough to make her happy. "That sounds like a great plan. I'm going to go and get ready."

Snape nods and she leaves.

She gets ready and comes downstairs once again where Severus is already waiting for her, a smile on his face. She frowns and he points towards the owl, waiting for her on the living room.

The majestic owl has a letter that is impossible to mistaken. She smiles. It's going to be a good day. Hermione can tell.


End file.
